Arkham Origins
by BlueKnight101
Summary: Batman is young and inexperienced, just starting out on his quest to combat crime, but with The Clown Prince of Crime rising, will even Batman be able to stop him, or has the Dark Knight finally met his match?


**PROLOGUE**

They say, as humans, that we are the most intelligent living organisms. The king of all species and leader of all prides. Earth was humanities domain. Constructed and destroyed with our wits...and undeniable stupidity. We risked all for love and misplaced it for greed and power. We achieved and lost. If we weighed our bad decisions against good, which would win? In our short time here have we left a legacy that would beam across the universe or dim and fissile like a match in water? What can we say we created, truly created, as a species. Which has not destroyed or killed or devastated our own kind and others? The answer is hope. The possibility of our undeniable fate might not be in our own two hands. If we don't have hope, what do we have? If we don't have hope, what or who do we have to turn to?

As of this moment, Jack White had lost all hope. She was dead. The only woman he had ever loved was dead, as was their unborn child. The police said it had been a car accident, one which he had been involved in too, but he knew better. This was all _his _fault.

Vasilev. Ricardo Vasilev. A man who had once been considered a friend. Someone who was now his prime target.

Jack had owed him money, and he was late with the payment, and Jack had recognised the small pop of an explosive charge as the car had begun to crash and had cursed Vasilev.

The strange thing about his wives death was that Jack wasn't sad. He was angry. He had been stuck in a hospital bed for three months now while his bones healed. While his limbs sowed themselves back together.

He hated plans. Loathed them, but he had planned out his revenge and planned it out well. He had been released from hospital last night and a friend in the police force gave him a lift home.

"Thanks Frankie." Jack had waved goodbye to his good friend Frankie Boles. They had been friends since their childhood. Frankie wasn't going to be in the police much longer, having accepted a position as head of security at Black gate prison, but Frankie had agreed to do one last thing for him. Something very important to Jack.

It was raining. Which would just make this scene all the more impressive. Jack stared across the road at Jonathan's Bar, a favourite bar for all kinds of law breakers.

In front of the bar sat the car that belonged to Vasilev. An old beat up Honda Civic in a terrible brown colour. Vasilev was currently cuffed sitting in the back seat courtesy of Frankie. Jack would have to find Frankie when this was over and say thank you, before he went into hiding.

Jack smiled before gently touching the scars on his cheeks. Marks which made him look like he was constantly smiling. Marks made by himself to make himself memorable to anyone who saw him. The Clown makeup was Frankie's idea. The red grin, the white face paint and the dyed green hair, all to make his appearance more fearsome. Something which Jack agreed with, it really did.

Jack nodded to himself before crossing the road towards the car. He could see Vasilev's form in the back, struggling against his cuffs behind his back.

Pulling open the door, Jack dropped into the front seat, and took a few deep breaths, looking out the front window, knowing there was no going back now.

"Who the hell are you?" Vasilev asked, causing Jack to chuckle as he turned round.

"Like my new look Richie?" He asked with a small laugh, when a look of fear and recognition spread across the bigger mans face.

"Jack?" Vasilev said slowly, "It wasn't me. Judy's death wasn't my fault. I didn't plant the bomb."  
Jack laughed again, as he began searching in his coat pocket for something; "You never were the brightest shit in the box, were you Richie?" He asked as he pulled a box of matches out of his pocket; "You just implemented yourself."

Vasilev's face dropped, as he realised that he had; "What are you supposed to be? Some kind of Joker?"

Jack went to laugh again, but stopped. _Joker? The Joker? _He liked that. That would be his name from now on. Jack White no longer existed, in his place a nightmare had risen.

"No," He licked his lips slowly, before running his free hand threw his hair; "I am the Joker, and this is my first performance." He took a deep breath; "Smell that?"

Vasilev noticed the smell for the first time...no it couldn't be...gasoline? Then he felt it, and saw it, the foot-well his feet were currently rested in was flooded with gasoline. Vasilev knew then that he wasn't going to walk away alive from this encounter; "Jack..." He began to plead, but Joker cut him off.

"NO," He shouted, "There is no more snivelling Jack White. I am the Clown Prince of Crime," Joker was pleased with that, off the top of his head it sounded good, "I am the Joker." He said calmly, as he withdrew a single match from the box and sparked it against the side of the box. The small flame illuminated the small car; "You know Richie, an apology wouldn't mean anything right now." He said and dropped the match over the back of his chair and into the gasoline, as he opened his door and stepped out of the car.

Joker grinned to himself as he strode away from the car and it's single burning occupant. The mans screams echoing into the night.

_'This is going to be a fun time of my life.' _Joker thought to himself as he walked off into the night.

_**AN: **_**While I love Mark Hamills Joker, my favourite is Heath Ledgers (R.I.P Heath) and will be using his Joker as the template for mine. Review please **


End file.
